“Dyer is clearly the head of the German spy plot in Dorfield, but the person who acts as medium between Dyer and the Master Spy is an alleged suspender salesman calling himself Abe Kauffman. This Kauffman makes frequent trips to Dorfield, giving orders to Dyer, and on one occasion Kauffman, who stops at the Mansion House while in town, hired Tom Linnet to place a bomb in the Airplane Factory, causing an explosion which destroyed many government airplanes and killed several employees. The sum paid Linnet for this dastardly act has made him rich and he has bought or is about to buy a cigar store. Kauffman now has another bomb in his possession, doubtless brought here to be placed, when opportunity arrives, to do the most possible damage. Indications are that he may attempt to blow up the steel works, where a large amount of shells are now completed and ready for shipment to-morrow — meaning that the job must be done to-night, if at all. Perhaps Linnet will place the bomb; perhaps Kauffman will do it himself. Dyer has lost his incriminating papers and notes and is on his way to Washington in an endeavor to recover them.
“Associated with Dyer in his horrible activities is Mrs. Augusta Charleworth, occupying a high social position, but of German birth and therefore a German sympathizer. She is clever, and her brains supplement those of Dyer, who seems more shrewd than initiative, being content to execute the orders of others. Dyer was educated at Heidelburg, in Germany, which accounts, perhaps, for his being pro-German, although I suspect he is pro-anything that will pay him money. Dyer and the Hon. Andrew Duncan, while political pals, are not connected in this spy plot, but I suspect that Peter Boyle, the proprietor of the Mansion House may be one of the gang. I’ve no evidence yet that implicates Boyle, but he harbors Kauffman as a guest and ought to know that his night clerk is printing traitorous propaganda. So far, the evidence incriminates Kauffman, Mrs. Charleworth, Dyer and Tom Linnet. I believe Mrs. Dyer to be innocent of any knowledge of her husband’s crimes; otherwise, she would never have parted with that important desk — the desk that will prove his ruin and ought to cost him his life.
“My plan is this,” concluded the notation, “to catch Kauffman or Linnet in the act of placing the bomb to-night, make the arrest, round up the other guilty ones and jail them, and then turn the case over to the federal officers for prosecution. A telegram to Washington will secure Professor Dyer’s arrest on his arrival there.”
Josie read this through twice and nodded her red head with intense satisfaction.
“All clear as crystal,” she asserted gleefully. “I have proof of every statement, and the finale can’t go very wrong with such knowledge in my possession. To-night, unless all signs fail, will prove a warm night — warm enough to scorch these dreadful, murderous tools of the Kaiser!”
And now Josie skipped over to the police station and had a somewhat lengthy conference with Chief Farnum, who knew her father and treated the girl detective with professional consideration. After this she hunted up the two government agents — old Jim Crissey and young Norman Addison — who knew her well as “John O’Gorman’s clever kid, the pride of her doting Daddy.” They listened to her with interest and genuine respect for her talent and not only promised their assistance whenever it might be needed but congratulated her warmly on her good work.
This concluded Josie’s afternoon labors, and it was with a sense of triumphant elation that she returned to her hotel to rest and prepare for the expected crisis.
CHAPTER XXI
SURPRISES
Josie went to dinner as soon as the dining room opened. When she came out she met Abe Kauffman going in. He stopped and spoke to her.
“Sell any brains yet?” in a jocular way.
“Not to-day,” she replied, with her innocent, baby-like stare.
“Well, I didn’t sell any suspenders, either. There are no spenders for suspenders. Ha, ha, ha!”
“That doesn’t seem to worry you much,” asserted Josie, pointedly.
He gave a shrug.
“Well, to-morrow morning I leave by the 5:30 train east, so if I don’t see you any more, I hope the brains will find a market.”
“Thank you.”
She went on, glad to escape the man. “He told me about leaving on the 5:30, and is probably giving everyone else the same information, so he can’t be connected with the explosion,” she reflected. “Clever Mr. Kauffman! But not clever enough to realize he is near the end of his infamous career.”
Josie’s plans, perfected during that afternoon, primarily involved the shadowing of Abe Kauffman every moment, from now on. Abe Kauffman and his black satchel. For it grew dark early at this time of year, and already the brief twilight was fading. So the girl hastened to her room and exchanged her gray walking suit for a darker one that was inconspicuous and allowed free movement. Then she slipped her little pearl-mounted revolver — her father’s gift — into her handbag and decided she was ready for any emergency.
Having extinguished the light in her room, she glanced from the window into the alley below, where the shadows were now gathering deeply.
“I think Kauffman will go down the fire-escape and drop into the alley,” she mused; “but he must first come to his room for the black satchel, in any event, and from that instant I must never lose sight of him.”
Suddenly she discovered a form pacing slowly up and down the otherwise deserted alley. Fearful that other detectives were on the watch, and might disrupt her plans, she strained her eyes to discover this person’s identity. There was but one light to relieve the gloom, and that was far down the alley, a spot the prowler for some time avoided. Finally, however, he came to a point where the light touched his face and Josie instantly recognized Tom Linnet.
“He is waiting for someone,” she decided, “and Kauffman is still at dinner — killing time because it’s yet too early to undertake his nefarious task. Tom Linnet may be the tool he has selected, and I ought to get in touch with the boy, somehow, before he meets the arch conspirator. Kauffman is the one I prefer to land.”
With this in mind, she hurried down, passed out at the front office doorway and turned into a narrow drive at the south of the hotel, which led to the rear alley. A great business block, now dark and deserted, loomed on the other side of the driveway, which was used by the baggage and supply wagons in the daytime.
When the girl reached the corner of the alley she found herself in very deep shadow; so she ventured to protrude her head far enough to look after Tom Linnet. To her surprise the party he had been waiting for had already joined him, for she discovered two dusky forms pacing the alley.
It could not be Kauffman. While she hesitated whether to steal closer or maintain her position, the two advanced almost to her corner and paused there — in the blackest spot they could find.
“I tell you I won’t do it!” said Tom, in a hard, dogged tone that was tense with excitement. “I’m through, and that’s all there is to it.”
“That’s a mistaken notion,” was the quiet reply. “You’re too deep in the plot to draw back, and the pay is well worth while.”
“I don’t want any more money,” growled Tom.
“You’ll get two thousand for this night’s work. Cash. And there is no risk; you know that.”
“Risk? God, man! Can’t you guess how I dream of those poor devils I sent to their death in the airplane job? I hate the money I got! I — I — ”
“See here,” said the other voice impatiently, “that was a mistake, and you know it. We didn’t intend murder, but the explosion was delayed. No one will get hurt to-night.”
“Not through me,” declared Tom.
“If you fail us, you’ll come to grief.”
“If I come to grief, so will you. Peach on me, and I’ll blow the whole deal.” There was a moment’s silence.
“Would three thousand satisfy you?” demanded the tempter.
“No,” asserted Tom stoutly; “I’m goin’ to quit. What’s done can’t be undone, but I’m through with you. It — it’s too blamed terrible, that’s what it is! Leave me
alone an’ let me turn honest. Why don’t you do the job yourself?”
“I think I will,” said the other calmly. “If you intend to turn down a good thing, I’ll do my own work and save the money. But remember, Linnet, silence is your only salvation. Don’t talk at all; if you do, you’re liable to say the wrong thing — and you can’t afford to do that.”
“I’m no fool,” responded the night clerk, a shade of relief in his tone. “But don’t come to me again, Professor. I’m done with you.”
Professor! Josie felt a distinct shock. She had to flatten herself against the wall, too, and remain rigid, for the man abruptly turned the corner and marched down the driveway. Half way to the brilliantly lighted street he dodged behind the building opposite the hotel, threading his way through narrow back yards. Josie followed, swift and silent. Finally they reached a place where the man was forced to pass beneath the rays of a lamp and Josie was near enough to see his face. It was, in reality, Professor John Dyer.
That assurance was all the girl wanted, just now. She let him go his way and turned to regain the hotel. It was not quite eight o’clock, yet she felt it important to keep an eye on Kauffman and the bomb. The bomb, especially, for until Dyer took possession of the infernal contrivance he could do no mischief.
In the hotel lobby she entered a public telephone booth and called up Jim Crissey; then she went straight to her room. She could hear a low whistling in 45, which informed her that Kauffman had not yet gone out and that he was in a cheerful mood.
“I’m beginning to understand their method of work,” Josie reflected. “Kauffman prepares the bombs, or brings them here under the guise of a suspender salesman; Dyer arranges for their being placed, having secured information as to where an explosion will do the most damage to the government, and Tom Linnet is used as the tool to do the actual work. Mrs. Charleworth probably assists Dyer in getting special information, and advises the gang, but doesn’t take an active part in the perpetration of the crimes. Her brains and position would naturally place her at the head of the conspirators in Dorfield, although I’m pretty sure Kauffman, as the agent of the Master Spy, can dictate what they must do.”
Kauffman slammed his door and locked it. He was going out. Josie opened her own door a crack to look after him. He was walking deliberately down the corridor, openly carrying in his left hand the black satchel.
To Josie this seemed the essence of effrontery. He had no intention of using the fire-escape, after all. He trusted in bravado, as so many careless criminals do. As she stealthily followed him, she observed the man stop in the office and exchange commonplaces with one or two guests whom he knew.
In reality, this was his safest plan. The black bag did not look suspicious. Presently the bomb would be turned over to Dyer and Kauffman’s responsibility would then end. His very boldness was calculated to prevent suspicion.
Leaving the hotel, Kauffman walked leisurely up the lighted street. Only when he turned a corner did Josie momentarily lose sight of him. There were many pedestrians at this hour and they masked the girl’s form and for a while enabled her to keep near to the man she was shadowing. The only thing that puzzled Josie was the fact that Kauffman was proceeding in a direction exactly opposite that taken by Dyer a short time before. Dyer went south and Kauffman was going north.
When the business section of Dorfield was passed, the streets became more deserted. They were not well lighted either, which favored Josie the more.
Kauffman kept steadily on, and as the houses along the way thinned, Josie decided he was headed directly for the steel works. That upset her calculations a bit, for she knew he had not seen Dyer since the latter’s interview with Tom Linnet, nor had he seen Linnet; therefore he could not know that any arrangements he had previously made with them had fallen through. The German’s present actions, however, indicated that he had decided to place the bomb himself, without the assistance of his fellow conspirators. Had he been warned of Linnet’s defection? Had he means of communicating with Dyer unknown to Josie? Dyer was a mystery; even his wife believed he was now on his way to Washington.
Surprises, in Josie’s line of work were not uncommon, and this was no time to consider whys and wherefores. The one thing she was sure of was that the bomb was in the black satchel and the black satchel in Kauffman’s hand. No matter where the other conspirators might be or how they were implicated in tonight’s plot, as long as she kept her eye on the bomb, she would be able to control the situation.
CHAPTER XXII
A SLIGHT MISTAKE
From the edge of the town to the steel works the road led through a common, overgrown with brush and weeds. There was no moon and although the distance was not great it was a lonely, dark and “creepy” place. As soon as the girl saw Kauffman take the road to the works she decided to get there before he could do so. Knowing well she could not be seen, she branched off through the brush, and finding her way by instinct rather than sight, ran swiftly in a half circle over the fields and struck the road again considerably in advance of the more deliberate Kauffman.
She now set off at her swiftest run and on reaching the manager’s office, in the front of the main building, perceived that it was lighted.
Josie rapped upon the door and it was opened by one-armed Joe Langley, the night watchman.
“Quick!” she said, “let me in and hide me somewhere, where I can’t be seen.”
Joe pulled her in, closed the outer door and locked it, and then faced her.
“What’s up?” he demanded.
“There’s a man coming here with a bomb in a black satchel,” she panted. “He intends to blow up this building, in which all the shells axe stored. I want to catch him in the act, Joe, and you must hide me somewhere.”
Joe glanced around with a puzzled look.
“Where?” he asked helplessly.
So Josie looked around her, too. This end of the long building was partitioned off for offices, as it fronted the town. The central section was a big space containing a table, benches, etc., while on either side were little glass rooms with partitions between them reaching about seven feet in height, the ceiling being some twelve feet from the floor. The first room to the left of the entrance was marked “Manager” on its glass door; the next office “Purchasing Agent,” and the third “Chief Engineer.” On the right hand side, the corresponding offices were marked “Secretary,” “Examiner,” and “Superintendent.” All the office doors were locked except that of the Purchasing Agent, which stood ajar. Josie sprang into that office and cast a hurried glance around. The glass division between that and the manager’s office was “frosted” with white paint, but so carelessly done that she found places where she could see through into the office of the manager. Also she could see into the main, or reception room, even with her door closed.
While she examined this place a knock came on the outer door — a loud, imperative knock.
“This will do,” whispered Josie to Joe. “Go an let him in, but don’t let him suspect I’m here.”
Joe was not quick-witted, but on the battlefields of France he had learned prompt obedience to orders. Josie, as a government agent, was now his commander, so he merely nodded to her as he walked over to unlock the outer door.
Kauffman stepped in, satchel in hand.
“You’re the watchman, I suppose,” he said cheerfully. “Is Mr. Colton here?”
“No,” answered Joe.
“I was to meet him here at this time,” said Kauffman.
“He said he’d be back this evening,” returned Joe, just recalling that fact, “but he isn’t here yet.”
“All right,” said the man, “I’ll wait.”
He carefully placed the satchel on the table and sat down on a bench. Joe regarded him suspiciously, remembering the girl’s warning, but said nothing more. Josie was watching Kauffman from her retreat, but as her little office was dark and the German sat under a bright light it was impossible for him to know that his every movement was under obs
ervation.
The minutes dragged. A big clock on the wall ticked with an ominous sound. Kauffman drew out his watch and compared it with the clock. He appeared to grow restless.
Josie’s quick ears caught the distant sound of a motor car coming down the road. Perhaps Kauffman heard it also. He rose from his seat and going to the table unlocked the black satchel, pressed the top open and looked inside it. Still bending over the satchel he placed a cigarette in his mouth, lighted a match and applied the flame to his cigarette. His back was toward Josie but she comprehended instantly the action.
“He has lighted the fuse!” she murmured, triumphantly.
The motor car came to a sudden halt outside the door, which Joe had left unlocked; but while the German turned expectantly toward the door the maimed soldier, hearing Josie’s whisper, approached her little room and slightly opened her door.
“He has lighted the fuse of the bomb,” she said to him excitedly. “The bomb is in the satchel!”
Joe turned quickly to the table. He dived into the bag with his one good hand, drew out the heavy ball of steel and rushed with it to the door just as the manager, Mr. Colton, opened it and stepped in.
So swift were Joe’s actions that Kauffman had no time to interfere. Both he and the manager stared in amazement as Joe Langley rushed outside and with all his might hurled the bomb far out upon the common.
“Confound you!” cried Kauffman. “What did you do that for?”
“What is it?” inquired the astonished manager.
“A bomb!” cried Josie, stepping from her retreat and confronting them. “A bomb with the fuse lighted, and timed to blow up this building after you had gone away, Mr. Colton. That man before you is a German spy, and I arrest him in the name of the law. Put up your hands, Abe Kauffman!”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 623